Over the years Cartier, now 48, watched the number of women in the squadron grow.

She saw the first woman become a gunner, despite hesitations. She saw that with the correct technique women were just as capable as men of loading and firing the weapons.

She saw a woman become a part of almost every crew in the 4th Special Operations Squadron. They gave just as much, risked just as much, in one of the most-deployed units after 9/11, she said.

In 2009, then Lt. Col. Cartier took over as commander of the squadron to become the first woman to command a special operations flying squadron in the United States.

Now a colonel, she is special assistant to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon.

“There was a period of time where everybody sort of had to get used to each other,” Cartier said recently. “But we realized maybe people were a little more concerned about it than was actually our experience. We were wondering what it would be like and it ended up being pretty seamless, and as more women showed up it became commonplace pretty quickly.”

She said there were a few interesting things along the way, though.

Early on she noticed that all her flying orders had a letter G next to her name.

When she started inquiring about it, no one — even in special operations leadership — could answer what the G stood for. Eventually it was removed.

“We never learned the mystery of where the ‘G code’ came from,” she said.

There was no negative impact from its removal, though, and the ‘G code’ became a running joke in the tight-knit community of women on gunship crews, she said.

There wasn’t enough room for sex-segregated bathrooms on the gunships, but everyone gave each other the respect of as much privacy as possible, Cartier said. It didn’t take long to get used to it.

One development that hadn’t been anticipated before 9/11 was sleeping quarters when the crews deployed. At times they live in what is basically a “tent city,” with each crew assigned to a makeshift shelter.

For expediency and efficiency, men and women all shared one tent, something that would have never happened before the war, Cartier said. They used sheets or plywood to section off an area for privacy.

Through the years, to vocal opposition, leadership often would propose separating the men and women.

“They did not want to be broken up,” she said. “Part of the crew cohesion came from sharing a space.”

It became apparent that sharing space, something that was necessary in wartime, did not cause any of the anticipated problems.

“Combat is the mother of innovation,” Cartier said. “You just end up in these situations where rules as you knew them, you can’t apply.”

She believes the military learned a lot watching Air Force women and men interact in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, and that may have led the way to the decision earlier this year to lift the ban on women in combat roles military-wide.

“The guys’ lives aren’t any less precious than the women’s,” she said. “If men are injured or killed going into dangerous situations, women can face these dangers, too. Patriotism doesn’t have a gender.”

Over the years Cartier, now 48, watched the number of women in the squadron grow.

She saw the first woman become a gunner, despite hesitations. She saw that with the correct technique women were just as capable as men of loading and firing the weapons.

She saw a woman become a part of almost every crew in the 4th Special Operations Squadron. They gave just as much, risked just as much, in one of the most-deployed units after 9/11, she said.

In 2009, then Lt. Col. Cartier took over as commander of the squadron to become the first woman to command a special operations flying squadron in the United States.

Now a colonel, she is special assistant to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon.

“There was a period of time where everybody sort of had to get used to each other,” Cartier said recently. “But we realized maybe people were a little more concerned about it than was actually our experience. We were wondering what it would be like and it ended up being pretty seamless, and as more women showed up it became commonplace pretty quickly.”

She said there were a few interesting things along the way, though.

Early on she noticed that all her flying orders had a letter G next to her name.

When she started inquiring about it, no one — even in special operations leadership — could answer what the G stood for. Eventually it was removed.

“We never learned the mystery of where the ‘G code’ came from,” she said.

There was no negative impact from its removal, though, and the ‘G code’ became a running joke in the tight-knit community of women on gunship crews, she said.

There wasn’t enough room for sex-segregated bathrooms on the gunships, but everyone gave each other the respect of as much privacy as possible, Cartier said. It didn’t take long to get used to it.

One development that hadn’t been anticipated before 9/11 was sleeping quarters when the crews deployed. At times they live in what is basically a “tent city,” with each crew assigned to a makeshift shelter.

For expediency and efficiency, men and women all shared one tent, something that would have never happened before the war, Cartier said. They used sheets or plywood to section off an area for privacy.

Through the years, to vocal opposition, leadership often would propose separating the men and women.

“They did not want to be broken up,” she said. “Part of the crew cohesion came from sharing a space.”

It became apparent that sharing space, something that was necessary in wartime, did not cause any of the anticipated problems.

“Combat is the mother of innovation,” Cartier said. “You just end up in these situations where rules as you knew them, you can’t apply.”

She believes the military learned a lot watching Air Force women and men interact in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, and that may have led the way to the decision earlier this year to lift the ban on women in combat roles military-wide.

“The guys’ lives aren’t any less precious than the women’s,” she said. “If men are injured or killed going into dangerous situations, women can face these dangers, too. Patriotism doesn’t have a gender.”